


ASG

by foryouandbits



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [16]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Mentions of Real Hockey Players
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 23:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21216989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foryouandbits/pseuds/foryouandbits
Summary: Based off a post of a headcanon where Bitty beats the other skaters at the All-Star Game without even being in the league. Jack is very proud.





	ASG

Early in the morning on the first of January, Jack Zimmermann was asleep in his bed with his boyfriend on his chest. Bitty had returned early from Georgia to spend the last few days of his winter break in Providence. They had hoped to ring in the new year together, but Jack had an away game and was in the air as 2016 turned to 2017. It was fine; that was the sacrifice they made so Jack could play professional hockey.  
  
A phone buzzed. Jack felt Bitty stir but neither of them woke. A second buzz was enough to fully wake Jack, who opened his eyes and looked over at the nightstand. It was still much too early. It was a holiday and he had the day off. While he wasn't planning on sleeping in, he was planning on a lazy morning in bed with Bitty. Usually early morning texts meant he was needed somewhere, and at the moment he was needed there in his bed with Bitty.  
  
The phone buzzed again.  
  
"You should look at those," murmured Bitty.  
  
"Mmm, no," said Jack, who wrapped his arm around Bitty, catching the cool print of his number on the back of Bitty's Providence Falconers shirsey. It wasn't a pleasant feeling on his fingertips, so he slipped his hand under the hem of the shirt to touch Bitty's skin instead. That was much better and it made Bitty sigh in the way he did when something felt good.  
  
Much to Jack's chagrin, Bitty lifted his head and took the phone from the nightstand. He quickly sat up.  
  
"What?" Jack asked, finally opening his eyes. Bitty's hair was mussed and stuck up more than just the usual cowlick at the crown of his head. His eyes were heavy and dark; he'd waited up for Jack to arrive home before they both fell into bed around two-thirty in the morning. Jack stared at him anyway as Bitty's expression lightened and his mouth turned into a broad smile. "What?" Jack asked again.  
  
"You've been selected for the All-Star Game," said Bitty, turning the phone toward Jack. The phone displayed three notifications, all texts from George Martin:

**George**  
Guess what?  
  
**George**  
Just got the call  
  
**George**  
You've been selected to the ASG this year!

Jack rubbed at his eyes. It was much too early and they'd gone to bed much too late. "What?" he said again, but when he opened his eyes the notifications were still there, and George had texted again.

**George**  
Up and at 'em, Jack. I need to confirm that you're in.  
  
Jack took the phone from Bitty and unlocked it so he could stare at the texts without the display dimming. He must have still been dreaming, or perhaps he was hallucinating, because this was ridiculous. This was his second season. It was entirely too early for him to be considered an All-Star.  
  
"You okay, sweetpea?" Bitty asked. He'd placed a hand on Jack's bare skin, on the six inches between the waist of his boxers and the hem of his rucked-up T-shirt. Jack frowned as he continued to look at the texts. His gaze flickered to Bitty, who was still smiling at him. Bitty took the phone out of his hands, put it on the nightstand, and then straddled Jack's hips, both of his hands on Jack's skin now as his beaming smile morphed into a smirk, something much too sexy for this early in the morning.  
  
"It's legit, honey," said Bitty, as if reading Jack's mind. "They want you on the All-Star team."  
  
"But…why?" Jack asked.  
  
"Because you are a star, Mister Zimmermann," said Bitty, and he leaned forward for a brief kiss before he returned upright. "You are a Stanley Cup champion. You are a Conn Smythe winner. You are an alternate captain —"  
  
"_Alternate_ captain," Jack clarified.  
  
"Which you were named in your rookie year. I would not at all be surprised if you were chosen as the _captain_ captain when the time comes to name one."  
  
Jack continued to frown, but Bitty looked so enticing, straddling his hips, touching his skin, grinning at him, and pointing out accomplishments as if they meant something. They did mean something, because Bitty had never doled out compliments for no reason. Not to Jack, not in their bed, not when they were alone.  
  
"Will you come with me?" Jack asked when he finally put his hands underneath Bitty's shirt.  
  
"To the ASG?" Bitty asked in surprise. "I… I don't know."  
  
"Guys usually bring their families," said Jack, running his hand up Bitty's side to hopefully remove the surprise and bring back the desire.  
  
"Yeah, their kids. Not their WAGs."  
  
"You're not a WAG," said Jack.  
  
"This is true," said Bitty.  
  
"Come with me," repeated Jack and his hands reached Bitty's armpits, the shirt coming with them, so he continued up until the shirt was off Bitty's body and on the floor. Jack returned his hands to Bitty's skin and slid them down to the waistband of his small sleep shorts, the kind he always wore to bed with Jack, because Jack liked them. At the present, Jack just wanted them gone. Bitty bent forward and gave Jack a deep kiss, allowing Jack to pull him down so their bodies were flush together.   
  
The phone buzzed again on the nightstand. They both ignored it.

***

  
  
The 2017 All-Star Game took place in Los Angeles the last weekend of January. Jack flew in alone on Friday night. The opening dinner and after party were boring, so he schmoozed for the shortest amount of time possible and went to bed early. Bitty would be flying in on Saturday while Jack was in the press junket, but had to leave again right away in the morning to be back at Samwell in time for his game on Sunday afternoon. With the skills competition taking up most of the evening, Jack was disappointed that he'd only get a few hours alone with his boyfriend in the warmth of southern California before they both returned to the frigid Northeast.  
  
Jack was pacing in his hotel room, dressed in his suit, his eyes on the clock. Bitty was stuck in horrendous LA traffic and Jack needed to leave so he wasn't late. For some reason the All-Star Game included a red carpet, which he felt was both ridiculous and unnecessary. This was his first appearance at the ASG, and it might be his last if he missed the red carpet because he wanted to see his boyfriend.  
  
Savannah, the Falconers' Director of PR, sat in the armchair, her legs crossed, her hand to her temple, her eyes on the clock. "Jack, we've got to go."  
  
"Just another minute, he said they were almost here," said Jack, but he continued to pace in front of the king sized bed.  
  
"You can see him at the arena. People are already on the red carpet. If we don't leave now you're going to miss it, and I know there are fans waiting to see you."  
  
Jack groaned and finally sat on the bed when a loud knock sounded on the door. He jumped up just as quickly and ran to the door, which he opened to reveal Bitty with his carry-on suitcase, looking frazzled and annoyed.  
  
"Hi, sweetie. I am so sorry. I've heard that traffic in LA is bad but holy moly is it bad."  
  
"That's okay," said Jack, who paused at the door to give Bitty a kiss before he took the suitcase and brought it into the room. Savannah was on her feet.  
  
"Hi Bitty," she said. "We've got to get going. Are you riding in the car with us?"  
  
"Oh!" said Bitty and he looked at Jack. "Am I?"  
  
"Yes," said Jack.  
  
"Is that what you're wearing?" Savannah asked.  
  
Bitty looked down at himself. He was wearing jeans and his Samwell jersey. "Oh, sorry," he said. "There was a captains event right before my flight. I never changed. I can put on something else…"  
  
"No time," said Savannah. "Let's go."  
  
Savannah rushed them into the elevator and downstairs to the waiting black SUV. Savannah ushered Jack and Bitty into the back seat, and then she took the front. Once in the car, Jack relaxed, his hand in Bitty's, looking at his boyfriend rather than the road. "I'm glad you could come," said Jack, his head against the headrest as he looked at Bitty, who smiled happily at him.  
  
"I wouldn't miss this for the world," said Bitty, and he brought Jack's hand to his mouth to kiss the back of it. "Are you nervous?  
  
Jack had completely forgotten that he was about to compete with forty-three of the best players in the league. He was one of the forty-four best players in the league. So far the weekend had a very laid back air about it, but even so, he wanted to do well. He could just imagine making a fool out of himself in the fastest skater competition. He already didn't think he belonged there.   
  
George had been the one to tell him about it, and he stared at her after she said it, just like he'd stared at the text that brought him here. He figured he'd be asked to compete in the accuracy challenge, or maybe the hardest shot, but George said he was one of the two selections from the Metropolitan division as the fastest skater. It made no sense. He and Bitty had just gone skating in Madison, and Bitty had just smoked him on a lap around the rink. Jack was not a fast skater.  
  
"You are, though," said George when Jack vocalized this. "The challenges are head-to-head between divisions. They specifically nominated you for this one, and honestly, Jack, I'd put money on you to win."  
  
Jack was nervous, actually, but with Bitty next to him, it wasn't so bad. He kissed Bitty instead of replying to him, and Bitty blushed as he glanced at the front of the car. It had been seven months since they kissed at center ice in front of an audience of millions, but even so, Bitty still looked around whenever Jack kissed him in front of people he didn't know. Jack rubbed his thumb over Bitty's knuckles and Bitty relaxed.  
  
"Where am I sitting?" Bitty asked.  
  
"Good question," said Jack. He looked toward the front. "Savannah, where is Bitty sitting?"  
  
"There's a WAG section at press level," said Savannah.  
  
"Bitty's not a WAG," said Jack.  
  
"WAG and boyfriend section," said Savannah tersely.  
  
Jack rolled his eyes; Savannah's team had tried to come up with an inclusive acronym that wasn't "wives and girlfriends and I guess also boyfriends and maybe husbands someday," and so far no one had come up with anything catchy enough to stick. Every time events came up that included family, it was still just WAGs with an afterthought of "and Bitty too." It was frustrating, but fortunately it was the only frustrating part of being out in a league notorious for its homophobia.   
  
The red carpet was mostly fans, but there was a line of photographers that snapped pictures of him after he got out of the car and headed toward the arena. A camera followed him to the halfway point of the carpet and then hastily returned to the street to welcome the next player. Jack waved at fans, some of whom held rainbow flags with the Providence Falconers' logo on it. He stopped for autographs, focusing on children in Falconers gear, and then waved and continued inside. There were cameras in here as well, but it was much quieter.  
  
To his surprise, Bitty stepped up next to him. Savannah was just a few feet behind; they must have both exited the car as well but kept their distance until they entered the arena. "Oh, hi," said Jack. "You want to come with me while I get my gear on?"  
  
"Okay," said Bitty, although he eyed a nearby camera warily.  
  
It was crowded in the dressing room. Jack's gear was already waiting in a stall on the Metropolitan side, but they shared the dressing room with the Atlantic division so there were really no fewer guys than normal in the room, and almost everyone had an entourage. There was a camera and a reporter from every major network. It was fortunate Bitty was small; he and Jack squeezed together in Jack's stall as Jack began to change clothes.  
  
Jack had just half his gear on when he realized Savannah was gone. He looked around; someone from the Atlantic division was lacing up skates for his son, who clearly was meant to come out on the ice with him. Jack looked at Bitty. "You want to come on the ice with me?" he asked.  
  
Bitty's eyes widened. "Ooh, I don't know, Jack. I don't think I'm allowed."  
  
"Why not? I bet I could get gear for you in a snap. You're already wearing your jersey."  
  
"Gear? Jack, don't be ridiculous. I'll stay with you until you need to go on the ice and then I'll go to the WAG section."  
  
"You mean the WAG and Bitty section," Jack said darkly and Bitty frowned. Jack sent off a text and by the time Jack was putting on his jersey, an equipment manager appeared with a full set of gear in Bitty's size, including skates. 

Bitty shot Jack a look. "Are you serious?" Bitty asked. Jack smiled at him and stood to give Bitty room to change. Bitty looked around, but no one was paying attention to him, so he began to untie his shoes. The blue Falconers shorts didn't match his red and white Samwell jersey, but the skates fit, and when Bitty joined Jack on the ice after the opening ceremony, no one questioned his presence although several people requested an introduction.

"Hi, hi, oh my goodness hi," Bitty repeated as he shook hands with the current legends of hockey, his eyes wide and his smile immovable. Jack introduced him as "my boyfriend" and relished in the full feeling in his chest whenever he was able to do so, despite the cameras recording all of them for national broadcast, despite the eighteen thousand fans in attendance. He'd been so afraid of this for so long, ever since juniors, but there he stood with his boyfriend, and not a single person detracted from his happiness. During the first challenge, a four-man relay involving passing, puck control, stick-handling, and goalie goals, Shea Weber from the Canadiens had a five-minute conversation with Bitty about college hockey, which Shea bypassed by going directly from juniors to the NHL.

Bitty was still speaking with Shea when the next event began, a four line challenge that Jack would be participating in. Jack took hold of the stick that Bitty had been leaning on. "Oh, is it your turn already?" Bitty asked.

"Just for a group challenge. The fastest skater challenge is later."

"Good luck, sweetie," said Bitty as he handed over the stick, and he returned to his conversation. Jack joined his group of skaters at the center line. He would be part of the second group to go, and he began to feel nervous as he knelt on one knee, watching the first group as they set up at the blue line, aiming at the net that was mostly blocked apart from four very small openings. It looked ridiculously difficult but after the first group of players went and only one person actually scored a point, the pressure seemed to ease off. None of this really mattered and from the look of it, scoring even once seemed nearly impossible.

The first player in his group, Erik Karlsson, failed at getting both shots in the net. A referee turned to Jack and signaled that he take his place. He approached the center red line and let out a big breath. The audience seemed more chatty than cheery, but he heard a few screams when he set up and most audibly a shout from Bitty: "Show 'em how it's done, Jack!"

He juggled a puck on his stick and looked toward the net. There were holes in the upper corners and lower corners and while the uppers were larger and worth more points, Jack knew the chance of getting something in one of them was steep compared to just shooting along the ice into the lower corners. He had two chances so he decided to try for an upper on his first shot, but the puck smacked into the barrier rather than into the net, so he decided that attempting another in that direction was too risky. He took the other puck on his stick and Bitty shouted again, "You've got this!" He aimed for the lower right corner of the net, keeping the puck along the ice, and held his breath as it sailed forward. It hit the post but plinked in, and Jack pumped his fist as the crowd roared and Bitty wooed.

Smiling, Jack returned to the side of the ice and received fist bumps the two remaining members of the Metropolitan division. At the end of the challenge Jack was only one of four players who'd managed to net a puck, but Mike Smith, the goalie from the Arizona Coyotes, shot one in from his own goal line and as a result earned the Pacific division thirty points, so Jack's singular point made no difference. He skated across the rink back to Bitty, who beamed at him. "That was awesome, sweetie," he said and grabbed hold of Jack's arm in sort of a hug before he quickly let go. 

"This is too much pressure," said Jack, which caused Bitty to roll his eyes. "I think you should do the next one for me."

"Me?" Bitty asked, scandalized. "Jack, this is your competition, not mine."

"I'm not fast enough. You do it."

Bitty rolled his eyes again, but after the accuracy challenge, Jack took Bitty's hand and dragged him across the ice with him. "Jack, seriously, I'm not in the NHL. I'm not allowed to do this." Jack pushed Bitty toward Nikita Kucherov, who gave Bitty a strange look, but didn't say anything as Jack knelt with them. There wasn't a lot of time for Bitty to protest, however, as the TV feed returned from commercial and Kucherov stood. The camera focused on him but then as the in-arena announcement stated, "First in the Fastest Skater Challenge, Nikita Kucherov from the Tampa Bay Lightning against Jack Zimmermann from the Providence Falconers," Jack pushed Bitty. Bitty stood and the camera moved to him rather than Jack. Bitty smiled shyly and waved.

Jack looked across the rink at the press box located between the two team benches. Kent Parson, who'd been injured the previous week and thus wouldn't compete, stood next to an announcer with a headset on. Jack couldn't help a smile; they'd grabbed a few players to commentate during the challenges, and of course Parse would be asked for this one since he'd won it the year before. Parse looked impassively at Bitty, but Jack knew his face well enough to know that Parse was stifling a scowl. As Bitty and Kucherov were directed to the starting line by a referee, the rinkside announcer, Scott Oake, quickly snatched Jack from the ice and handed him a headset. As soon as he put the headset on, he could hear Parse speaking.

"...like Jack found a substitute," Parse was saying.

"Jack," asked Scott, "who's this you've got taking your place?"

"This is Eric Bittle, my boyfriend," said Jack, and then there it was, the first hesitation. There was no way Scott didn't know Jack had a boyfriend, or hadn't made the connection, but it was clear he hadn't expected Jack to be so bold on national television.

"What jersey is he wearing tonight?" Scott asked after a significant pause.

"That would be his. He's the captain of the hockey team at Samwell University in Boston. And he's very fast, so I'm expecting him to win this heat," said Jack. He looked at the ice and Bitty stood at the blue line, Jack's stick in his hand, his eyes on the referee. The referee blew a whistle and Bitty bolted forward, the crowd cheering him on but Jack watching silently, enthralled by his speed and his grace. Bitty might have been the reason Jack could even be considered for this sort of challenge, but there was no question Jack would rather watch Bitty go than compete on his own. Kucherov wasn't far behind, but he was behind, and as they rounded the second turn and headed back to the original blue line to finish, the tip of Jack's stick crossed first. Jack looked up at the time: thirteen seconds even, as opposed to Kucherov's time of 13.16 seconds.

"Nice," Jack said.

"Eric Bittle has beaten the winning score from last year's competition of 13.172 seconds. Kent, how do you feel about Eric breaking your record?" asked a different announcer across the rink.

"That doesn't count," said Parse. "He doesn't even go here."

Jack laughed, and Parse did too, although Jack recognized his fake media laugh even through a headset and eighteen thousand cheering fans. Bitty skated over to Jack and he said, "Good job, bud," as Bitty approached. Bitty stopped next to him and Scott held out his microphone.

"That was an impressive time," Scott said. Bitty had to lean in to hear over the cheering. "Is this something you practiced coming in to tonight?"

"This is a drill I'm familiar with back at Samwell," said Bitty, slightly out of breath as he gestured to the setup of the rink, which was split in half with three cones marking the turns at the faceoff dots near the goal line. "I'm usually not racing against someone, though. That made it more fun."

"Well congratulations on winning the first heat. Let's see how the rest goes."

Jack kept his headset on the rest of the challenge, which was awkward. Bitty had just beat an NHL player in a lap around the rink, and while it didn't surprise Jack, it definitely turned him on, and he very much wanted to congratulate Bitty without a microphone next to his mouth and a camera in his face. Bitty stood with him, eventually regaining his breath, but as the next set of players raced, neither met his time. "Oh dear," said Bitty when he looked at the scoreboard. Jack's name remained on the display, Bitty's time next to it. The third set of players raced, and again neither beat Bitty's time, but the final heat contained Connor McDavid, who was well-known for his speed. Jack felt his heartbeat tick up as McDavid took the line. If anyone was going to beat Bitty's time it was him, but just over thirteen seconds later, Jack was looking at the scoreboard for the result, and he said a loud, "NICE!" when Connor McDavid's score posted just below Bitty's name, with a time of 13.02 seconds.

"Oh hey!" said Bitty, smiling brightly although his face was beet red. "Do I win something?"

"Every challenge winner gets $25,000," said Scott and Bitty's eyes glazed over in shock as he looked at Jack. 

Jack couldn't stop grinning.

***

"You were so good, Bits," said Jack that evening back in the hotel room, Bitty still in his Samwell jersey per Jack's request, Jack still in his dress shirt and slacks per Bitty's request. They'd settled onto the bed but Jack couldn't keep his hands off Bitty's body, looking him up and down as he remembered the cheering of the crowd, the wind through Bitty's hair, Bitty's stick crossing the blue line an entire foot before Kucherov's. "Nobody else was even close."

"Connor McDavid was close," said Bitty.

"Barely."

"It was two hundredths of a second!"

"It was miles," said Jack and he put his face into Bitty's neck, kissing his sensitive skin there. Bitty squirmed. Jack lowered his hand from underneath Bitty's jersey to the back of his jeans, gripping his butt through the denim, which caused Bitty to squirm again. It was exactly what Jack wanted. Jack began to suck at the skin beneath Bitty's ear, but this time he squirmed too much and pulled away.

"Stop it, sweetpea, I've got a game tomorrow."

"But you taste good," whispered Jack into Bitty's ear. Bitty turned his head and caught Jack's mouth, and they kissed for what felt like hours only to be interrupted by the buzz of Jack's phone. Bitty pulled away and groaned, his head turned toward it, but Jack put his hand on the side of Bitty's head to direct him back.

"What if it's important?" Bitty asked.

"Then they'll text again."

Unfortunately, that was what happened, and Jack's phone buzzed a second time. He groaned and reached over Bitty's alluring body, fully clothed in his jeans and jersey, to the nightstand where his phone charged. He looked at it. George again.

**George**  
What time is Bitty’s game tomorrow?   
  
**George**  
I’ve got four scouts blowing up my phone 

Jack stared at the message, an internal debate raging in his mind. George could have easily looked up the time of the Samwell game, as could the scouts, but she wasn't asking for information. She was asking for approval. Bitty in the NHL would be amazing; he'd always thought Bitty was a world-class player who elevated the game of those around him while still holding his own, but if Bitty wasn't on the Falconers, Jack would spend three fourths of every year away from him. At least now Bitty could pop in during the weekend, or just for a night if he didn't have an early class. There would be significantly less of that if Bitty were in the league as well.

This, however, wasn't Jack's decision. He showed his screen to Bitty for him to decide. Bitty took hold of the phone and stared at it, and as he did his eyes filled with tears that he successfully prevented from spilling over. "Really?" Bitty asked as he looked at Jack.

"Looks real to me," said Jack. "What do you think?"

"I... that would be wonderful," said Bitty immediately, which caused Jack's heart to sink. Four scouts blowing up George's phone didn't include the Falconers' too, otherwise George would have mentioned it. Bitty returned the phone and Jack put it back on the nightstand without responding. Bitty wiped at his eyes and when he took his his hands away from his face, he looked less wistful and more grounded. "It would be wonderful, but that's so much, Jack. What if I ended up in Florida or Texas or all the way in Vancouver? I'd never see you."

"This isn't about me," said Jack. "What do you want?"

Bitty was silent for a long time, looking away from Jack and up at the plain white ceiling. Jack lay on the pillow next to Bitty and held him loosely around the waist, but didn't speak and didn't nudge until Bitty looked back at him. "I love hockey," said Bitty. "I really do."

"But?" Jack asked, vocalizing what Bitty didn't.

"But I don't love it like you do. I don't think this is my life."

"You don't have to decide right now. We can get you an agent, see if you get any offers..." 

Bitty shook his head decidedly. "No. Even if I was guaranteed to play with you, I can't. This isn't what I want."

"Are you sure?" Jack asked.

Bitty nodded, but the tears were back in his eyes. "Oh my God," he said. "Oh my God, I just said no to the NHL."

"It's not what you want," said Jack quietly, and he rubbed Bitty's stomach gently. "What _do_ you want?"

Bitty lifted his head. "Well, I just won myself a little nest egg," he said. "I think we should get serious about the bakery. What was that place you saw the other day on your run?"

"It's a nice location. It's a busy street but there's enough parking," said Jack.

"I think we should do it," said Bitty. "I think I should do it."

"If that's what you want," said Jack, and Bitty smiled.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's what I want," he said. "But you know what I want first?"

"What?"

Bitty kissed him again and let Jack roll him onto his back. "Thank God," said Jack as he tugged up the hem of Bitty's jersey. "I wanted to fuck you as soon as you crossed the finish line."

Bitty grinned. "You should have."

"I should have," said Jack. He removed Bitty's jersey and then kissed him again.

***

**Jack**  
Thank you, but he’s not interested  
  
**Jack**  
But you can tell Parse if he wants a rematch, he can eat Bitty’s dust at Faber

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [this post.](https://foryouandbits.tumblr.com/post/188560834030/quidditchgivesyouabs-i-dont-really-know-enough)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Stop by [my tumblr](https://foryouandbits.tumblr.com/) and say hi.


End file.
